


Guilt-ridden

by EMHEpsilon



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Confessional Kink, Discipline, Dom/sub, I wrote this for a dare, M/M, Not serious but I am putting it here anyways, Sorry Not Sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-15
Updated: 2020-02-15
Packaged: 2021-02-27 21:07:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,276
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22742224
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EMHEpsilon/pseuds/EMHEpsilon
Summary: Professor Snape helps Seamus deal with his guilt problem
Relationships: Seamus Finnigan/Severus Snape
Kudos: 2





	Guilt-ridden

**Author's Note:**

> I am so sorry.

It is apparent to anyone who ever encounters Seamus that he is brazen. A little lacking in cleverness, but he can’t be bothered to think any more on his flaws. A gryffindor through and through, shooting first, and asking questions later. He’s always prided himself on his quick nature.  
However, what’s not apparent to most even closest to him is that he is capable of tremendous guilt. A real full-bodied Catholic shame instilled in him at a young age.  
His father didn’t find out his mother was a witch until he got his Hogwarts letter. Up until the age of 11 he was raised as a typical irish boy; Skinned knees on blacktops, dense buttery biscuits, sprouting more freckles in the sun, and rosary beads. He could say his rosary prayers in latin and he knew his confessional speech by heart.  
“ O lord, have mercy upon us, miserable offenders… “  
Since he was a wee lad he knew every week to confess his sins, and it was a habit made to keep up, well into his years at Hogwarts. He couldn’t deny that the routine helped him deal with all the problems he’s made for himself. Left him feeling lighter every time, and it had actually become something he looked forward to in his later years.  
Yes, Catholic guilt was a problem of his. Despite all of his brazen actions and act-first attitude, there was always the regret after. He learned to cope while he was at school, for the most part. That is until he and Dean Thomas got a bright idea with the weasley twins he so looked up to.

It was a truly uneventful week, Seamus and Dean sat awake in their dorms at the crack of dawn. The crackling sheen of magic spread around them as they’d cast a silencing charm to avoid waking their sleeping bunkmates. It was the first quarter of their fifth year, and despite everything, exactly nothing has managed to happen. Instead of getting some much needed rest, the two of them set up, fiercely discussing their displeasure.  
“Honestly! I’d’ve figured we’d’ve been up to much more ‘n this now.” Seamus sighed once most of his grievances had been aired.  
“So… Why don’t we do something about it then?” A dawning look appeared on Dean’s face when he spoke. “ I know what we can do.”  
“Yeah? ‘N What’s that?”  
“Snape’s been especially barmy these last few days. I say we find a way to give him a piece, yea?”

And that’s how the two of them, and pathetically easily convinced twins found themselves in Snape’s potion storage room. To think the twins managed to make candies for every occasion. The plan to get in went off without a hitch. Filch nor his cat had discovered them at all, roaming after dark.  
“That was all too easy Forge. I’d say these two tag-alongs are due for some groveling.”  
“Right you are Gred, they are in the presence of masters here.”

“Alright alright, thank ye’, now let’s get on with it before something’ actually happens!” Seamus started as he made his way further into the storage room, Dean hot on his heels.  
“Pff. Amatuers, the lot of them.”  
“Well said” The twins replied quickly after entering after Seamus.

“Alright so… What do we do now?” Dean looked around, looking continually lost in the whole process.  
“Take whatever looks more impor’ant” Seamus said, eyes darting around looking for a telltale sign of a crucial potion ingredient. “Here!”  
The bottle he snatched up in his hand was opaque black, and slender. Not a typical potion vial, but held amongst the others as if it weren’t. A cork stopper placed on the top stopped him from looking further at the bottles contents.  
“This’ll be enough.”  
“That’s all? And here I thought we were going to find blokes who would continue our fine craft after we’ve graduated.” Fred shook his head in disbelief.  
“Truly a shame Gred. I say we should add our own little touch, just to be sure we get our fun too.”  
“Mmm yes Forge, We should do just that.” Fred agreed.  
“A few sticking charms maybe?”  
“Hmm a debut of our Wildfire Whiz-bangs?”

“Alright alright, this is all I wan’ed to get back at the greasy bat for Potions earlier. ‘M not goin’ to stick around for more trouble than it’s worth.” Seamus shook his head as he took his vial and made for the door.  
“Hey, hey wait for me!” Dean said, his only meaningful contribution to the whole evening as he ran after Seamus.  
“Amateurs.” The weasley twins shook their heads in unison.

After an agonizingly slow and overly cautious trek back to the Gryffindor house with Dean close behind. He stashed the vial deep in his luggage crate, and flopped ungracefully onto his bed above.  
“ That was… anti-climactic.” Dean piped up as he did much of the same.  
“Yeah yeah.” Seamus replied, his eyes suddenly very heavy. Not much longer after did he fall into a deep, albeit short sleep.

The following day, Seamus woke exhausted but pleased with himself. Feeling like for once he got to plan his own little heist. As he dug through his crate, bringing up various articles of clothing for a sniff test, he smiled triumphantly at his well-kept secret. Not that he even knew remotely what it was. Covering the evidence back up, he made his way through his daily motions. Starting with breakfast, god he was starved.

Potions came up fast and he was not surprised in the least once all the students filed into the classroom and his menacing teacher loomed behind his desk; his disapproving glare all the more intense today.  
Instead of feeling contentment at his teacher’s displeasure, a familiar sinking feeling started in his gut. He wonder’s vaguely if the weasley’s actually stuck around and gave their professor a harder time than necessary, he’d have to ask later.  
The more he pondered the further the heavy lead weight in his gut sat. A vague uneasy panic started to set in, and the class hadn’t even begun yet.  
Which, of course, had served to be just as difficult as he’d imagined if he thought anything through. Of course Snape would be upset, and of course that would make his stupid potions class all the more hard. Snape threw them all into the fire; relentless insults to everyone, even the Slytherins in the back who snickered whenever a Gryffidor was under fire. He’d assigned the class to successfully recreate a sleeping draught, which had proven to be extremely volatile, and hard to master. ‘All because we pissed him off’ Seamus thought to himself. The familiar blooming of guilt starting in his chest now.  
The class stretched longer and longer, and Seamus fought to keep his mind from straying. Not that it would help anyways, all of these potions he’s been asked to recreate have been so bloody hard. He added one too many lacewing flies and the whole cauldron exploded.  
A spiteful drawl came behind him, immediately sending chills down his spine.  
“Mr. Finnigan, if you are so incapable of following the simplest of directions, I’d advise you to avoid reckless activities at the expense of your house. 20 points from Gryffindor, and 50 points from the houses of all failed potions in this class.” His cloak billowing as he walked towards the front of Seamus’ cauldron. All Seamus could do was look pointedly down, no smart remark on his tongue, only the biting heat of the blush of shame creeping over the tips of his ears. His classmates groaning and huffing at the declaration.  
He could feel Snape’s sneer as he waited for the response that Seamus just simply did not have. One could say Snape’s expression turned more thoughtful, not that Seamus could see, as his head was still bowed, the previous guilt that he was feeling all the more amplified in the moment. All he could do was bite his tongue, and do his best to cope like he had been when he first came to Hogwarts.  
A short moment after, which felt like an eternity, Snape threatened the class with more point deductions if the complaining continued, and moved back to his desk to observe the class with extreme distaste.  
As long as the class felt to Seamus, his reprieve came and the end of class came to not so many minutes after. And once Snape was done declaring how many houses lost points, he dismissed all of them.  
Seamus was ready to be asked to stay after, he knew that Snape had known, there was no way that he didn’t! He stole something from his stores, and the man was albeit a greasy git, but very apt at knowing when someone misstepped. Seamus bit his tongue and stood, waiting, while his classmates filed out the door, shooting him confused and concerned looks as they went.  
When he was the last one standing, he was less sure that Snape wanted him to stay, less sure that he knew.  
Snape looked up from his papers at his desk and level Seamus with a glare.  
“Is there something that you need so desperately from me that Professor Trewlany or Professor McGonagall couldn’t help you with, Mr. Finnigan?”  
“I.. Er.. no?”  
“Then, Get. Out.” His T’s ending with a hiss as they left his tongue, and that was all the incentive that Seamus needed to leave promptly.

Thus began the waiting game. Everyday Seamus would wake up, stare at his little vial, and then go to his classes. Every day Seamus would expect to be scolded, reprimanded, anything by his professor. But it never came. The heaviness in his gut persisted and Everyday he almost wanted to beg for some kind of corrective action.  
Slowly, but surely, the guilt started to eat him alive. He couldn’t stomach much of his food in the great hall anymore, and the anxieties he had started to become rampant in the forefront of his mind.  
A strange thought kept moving closer and closer to the forefront of his mind. He missed his time in the confessional. His moments when he could atone for his brazen stupidity. The feeling of relief and lightness that came once he was on his knees and confessed all his wrongdoings. It’s something that he desperately wanted now.  
He deserved Snape’s cruelty and his judgement, but there was nothing behind it. The man didn’t know what was stolen, and didn’t know that Seamus had done any wrong besides being, as he called it, a brainless nit wit. The absence of him knowing had drove Seamus up a wall.  
One morning, about a week later, he met his breaking point. Classes had just wrapped up for the night, and everyone had just left the great hall after dinner. An hour left before curfew started, and Seamus couldn’t take it. He just about ran up to the Gryffindor dorms, shouting at a rather annoyed Fat Lady the password in his flurry, and retrieving the tortuous black vial from his crate under his bed.  
In a similar fashion he ran as quickly as he could down to the potions classroom, where he was sure Snape would be, grading papers with a sneer as he always was. Seamus practically threw open the heavy classroom door as he bounded inside, trying to stop. Lacking completely in grace, as usual. The heavy door closed behind him with a loud thud that resounded the classroom, Snape standing with his wand pointed at the door, which one can only assume he slammed shut. Seamus was heaving and in a sweat, as he started towards Snape. “Professor, please, I am sorry to both-”  
“Mr. Finnigan.” Snape spoke derisively, cutting through whatever Seamus had to say. “Nothing is that important at this hour, now Get. Out.” Practically hissing at him again, the slytherin.  
“It is important please Sir, I-” Seamus started, clutching the sinful vial in his left hand .  
“ENOUGH, I don’t want to hear any of it, curfew is starting and I will not tolerate any of this behavior.”  
“Sir, you don’t understand-”  
“50 points from Gryffindor. Get out before I deduct any more Mr. Finnigan.”  
Seamus stood stock still, panic rising more and more as he felt the bottle weigh heavy in his hand. He did the only thing that he knew what to do when he felt such intense guilt.  
Seamus dropped to his knees hard, and started whispering to himself. “ …. Restore those who are penitent; according to Your promises…” He subconsciously brought his hands clasped together, vial sitting neatly in between his fingers, practically burning his hands the guilt impressed upon it.  
There were no sounds in the room for a long stretch, other than Seamus hurriedly reciting his confessional prayer to himself, sweat breaking out on his forehead. Blush burning brightly on his cheeks.  
“Mr. Finnigan. What are you doing.” Snape spoke darkly, enunciating each word with a step towards Seamus.  
Seamus stopped his prayer once he felt Snape standing above his humble position. “Sir I… I didn’ know how else to stop this, I…” He heaved in a breath in his distress. “I am confessin’.” He weakly finished.  
“You are confessing. For what.” Snape’s expression was unreadable as he looked down upon his quivering student.  
Seamus weakly unclasped his hands and held out the vial in one of them, bowing his head to avoid Snape’s menacing gaze.  
“And, what is this Mr. Finnigan?” To Seamus’ surprise he didn’t snatch the vial from his hands, he took it from little force, and placed it on the counter to his right.  
“It.. It’s..” Seamus swallowed as he tried to stop his mouth from being so dry. “I’s a potion. From your stores.. Sir” His voice trembling as he spoke. But Seamus couldn’t deny that he started to feel the relief that he sought, slow easy waves of relief came. And unfortunately, so did a strange heat that he never wanted to feel in this moment.  
“I see. And why was this in your possession, pray tell?” Snape drawled, voice irritatingly devoid of emotion.  
“I.. I.. I wen’ to your stores. Af’er curfew. I was stupid, I didn’ think. ‘M so so sorry. I took just one thing, jus’ to be annoyin’ and I can’ take the guilt anymore.” Seamus was stuttering so badly at the end of it. One could say he sounded like he was on the brink of tears, but he hardly needed more of a blow to his ego in this moment. Not to say he didn’t feel a tremendous amount of shame already. He was on his knees in front of his teacher, guilty and looking for reprieve. Once the picture of what he looked like came across his mind, his body, the traitor that it is, started to have other ideas of how to spin this. He was a mess, a stuttering mass of shame and guilt, with a heat starting to pool in his belly at the thought of finally being able to atone.  
The small waves of minor relief peeling away at the edges of his mind, and sending signals it shouldn’t. Kneeling there with his hands clasped he could feel his prick starting to fill up, blood rushing down as the heat he was feeling started to intensify. He quickly moved his clasped hands down to rest at his front. He was bloody depraved.  
Snape was silent as he regarded him, Seamus could feel his stare heavy on him, and the only noise was the blood rushing past his ears.  
“What do you wish to accomplish Mr. Finnigan? Properly receiving my ire? Why did you come to return to me the most pointless potion in my stores?” Snape started to speak with far more venom than he’d had a moment ago.  
“No.. No I jus’...” Seamus heaved in another breath as the panic continued. “I needed the guilt to stop. Please, please let me… atone” He was surprised at his own admission. He brought his gaze up finally to look Snape in the eyes, his gaze remarkably nonplussed.  
“Hm.” That was the only noise of warning he got before he was being hauled up and onto the potion bench next to them. His stomach and torso lay flat on the table and his legs draped over the side so he still held his body weight. Snape was behind him, his hand keeping his face to the table, clasped tightly on the back of his neck.  
Seamus was breathing heavily, but he didn’t fight back. Once he got down on his knees, he was fully braced to receive any reprimand needed to stop this guilt that was eating him alive.  
The depraved part of his mind strayed very far from the present though. His cock went from half mast to full in a second flat, his current position betraying every dark fantasy he’d swore he’s never had. Snape’s hand warm on his neck and adding just enough pressure that it was sinful, in the best way possible.  
“Mr. Finnigan.” Snape drawled into his ear as he stood above him “Am I to understand that you are incapable of managing your own guilt?”  
Seamus was panting audibly now, squirming just barely to try and gain some friction on his own. “Yes sir.”  
“Very well.” Snape said with a sneer. “Am I to understand that your current predicament won’t resolve itself unless I absolve you of your sins, so to speak?”  
To his own surprise Seamus let a whimper pass through his lips.  
“Yes sir.”  
The hand on the back of his neck tightened marginally before Snape spoke again.  
“Unfortunately Mr. Finnigan, I do not give my forgiveness willingly. You will need to be punished, only then will you be absolved.”  
The threat should have been terrifying to him, it should have told him to run away and deal with his own guilty conscience on his own, and avoid Snape the rest of the semester. It should have. Instead what came out of his mouth was desperate for relief.  
“Please Sir, I need to be forgiven. Punish me.”  
“Stay. Here.” Snape all but growled, as the weight of his hand left his neck, as he left Seamus bent over the table awaiting his metaphoric doom, as he heard the telltale woosh of something Accio’d flying through the air. Something wooden hit Snapes palm as far as he could tell, but he couldn’t bear to look anywhere but the tabletop before him.  
“If you truly want my forgiveness Mr. Finnigan. You will follow my directions now. While I am aware of your many failings at this, if you do not listen to me closely now, your absolution will be far from your reach. Am I understood?”  
“Yes. Yes sir.”  
He heard Snape Hmm once more, and he can only assume he nodded to his assent.  
“You will only speak when spoken to, or when directed to do something. Am I clear?”  
“Yes sir.” Seamus grit his teeth as everything started to arouse him even further. His cock practically weeping at what was happening to him.  
“Good. This is a cane that I have in my hand. After every blow, you will count out what number it is, and you will apologize to me and tell me what it is that you did wrong. Am I clear?”  
Blows?! Seamus was going to be beaten tonight, but he couldn’t stop squirming to gain some friction on his prick. Shame and embarrassment showing vividly on his face as the blush spread to the tips of his ears. He rationalized that the Nuns at the church did something similar with rulers; this was how he could atone. He took a deep breath before he spoke again.  
“Yes sir.”  
“Good. You will do what I say without hesitation, do you understand?”  
“Yes sir.”  
“Take off your trousers Mr. Finnigan, and leave on your briefs. Then return to this position when you are done.” Snape’s drawl drawing sweet licks of arousal to Seamus, and if he could get harder in this moment he would.  
Seamus scrambled for his belt before Snape had even finished his command. He let his trousers pool around his ankles, and returned to his embarrassingly revealing position. Tight black knickers were the only thing hiding his painful arousal to his professor. Seamus burrowed his face into his arms on the table in shame.  
A high pitched Scwhip sounded through the air before he felt the blow land just beneath his ass. A white hot rod of pain bloomed across his skin as it stung where he’d just been hit with the cane. Seamus grit is teeth hard and balled his hands into fists to deal with the pain.  
“Mr. Finnigan.” Snape’s voice cut through his pain, instantly reminding him that he’s failing at his one way to atone. He wouldn’t let that happen.  
“One Sir! I am sorry, I stole from your stores!”  
Another shrill whip flew through the air, and he felt another sharp sting; this time right across the middle of his buttocks. The other blow managed to fade before the following. Dissolving into a dull ache that he was shocked added to his heat.  
“Two Sir! I am so sorry, I stole from your stores!”  
The following blow was significantly harder than the first two.  
“Three Sir! I am so sorry! I was being a reckless idiot!”  
Before the fourth blow came Seamus was already a mess. Tears started to prickle at the corners of his eyes, and he could feel precum start to drip down his length. He’d never felt such shame, and admittedly, never been so aroused in his life.  
The cane resounded through the air once more.  
“Four Sir! I am so sorry, please forgive me, I was so foolish!”  
Then five, six, and seven came and went. Turning Seamus into more and more of a mess, tears streaming fully now, his hips moving in any hopes to get any friction on his cock at all. He was a disaster.  
Smack! The sound of the cane reaching his ass once more, adding to the throbbing ache of his hindside.  
“Eight!” He said through gritted teeth. He was whimpering out the last of his sentence. “Please, Please forgive me sir. I am so so sorry. I stole from your stores, and it was a stupid mistake!”  
His legs beneath him were quaking. He felt like he was so close to cumming, and it scared him frankly. How easily it would be to just reach down and finish himself. He doubts it would take more than one good stroke to finish himself off. But this was punishment, and the shame he had took over for everything else he was feeling, no matter how desperate he was. There was no way Snape couldn’t tell how aroused he was. There was no way he couldn’t see the cock heavy between his legs, how it twitched with every hit. But he didn’t say anything. It was torture.  
Seamus felt a cool hand press against his ass and he flinched hard, tense from expecting another blow. He groaned deep when he could feel the soothing rubs the hand was leaving across his cheeks. Gently, and barely kneading the flesh there, but enough that Seamus could only whimper and groan.  
“Mr. Finnigan. This final blow will be the hardest of all of them, but afterwards you will be absolved of your misgivings. Am I understood?”  
“Yes sir.” Seamus whined. He met Snape’s eye for a moment to see him nod, before placing his head on the cool stone of the countertop before him, braced again for his final round of punishment.  
At this point he would do anything he could to cum. He’s soaked through his briefs he knows this, he can feel the dampness between his legs. The dull ache of his ass feeding the fire, so its burning just too hot. Just one more blow might do him in.  
The crack of the cane sounded once more through the air and once it hit him, there was no stopping the tidal wave that hit him then. He could see stars as all that came over him was white hot pleasure, as he came the hardest that he ever has before. And the bastard didn’t even touch him. Seamus held his mouth open with a silent moan as he rode out the fullness of his orgasm, hips stuttering when he came. Relief washed over him like a flood, his guilt fully leaving his body, leaving only bliss and a dull reminder in its wake.  
When he finally came to, he remembered his one job to atone, and he said it as un-slurred as he possibly could.  
“Nine Sir. Please forgive me. I am an idiot.”  
“An astute observation Mr. Finnigan. You are absolved. And as such, you may leave.” Seamus looked up in time to see Snape dismissing him with a wave of his hand.  
His current predicament dawning on him as he scrambled to put on his trousers once more, shifting despite the uncomfortable wetness now soaking him through. Once he’s righted himself he spoke back up. “Oh, erm… Right.” He began very flustered. “Thank you Professor.” He said with a small nod before awkwardly shuffling out of the door.  
“And to you Mr. Finnigan.” Snape said just before the door closed, resuming his post at the grading table.

Once Seamus made it back to the Dormitory, seen by nary a prefect after curfew, he flopped onto his bed, and had the most restful night sleep that he’s had all month.


End file.
